


i think i wanna marry you

by kohee



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Romance, getting married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kohee/pseuds/kohee
Summary: Four times Barba thinks about marriage and/or marrying Liv, and the one time he finally marries her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> one-shot; _i think i wanna marry you_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 2713 words  
> note: one of those few times he doesn’t, one time he does fic. Can you tell I’m still on the “just married” high?

_i. because she drives you crazy_

It’s hours after work, but Barba still waiting for Liv in his office because she asked him to. And now that he’s reading the case file she just handed him, he’s cursing her inwardly for wasting his time.

“For God’s sake, Liv, this circumstantial at best. You want me to get you a warrant based on this? Please don’t waste my time,” he says, rolling his eyes and tossing the file on his desk.

“She said she recognised his voice,” she argues, opening the file again and pointing to a line in the witness statement.

“ _No_ ,” he retorts with exaggerated patience. “She said she _thinks_ she recognised his voice. And let’s not forget a few sentences ago, she said she could not place anything, or identify anything, about the person who assaulted her. And then…” he jabs at another line in the statement. “…Rollins gave her options about an “ex-boyfriend”, or “someone you once dated”…sorry Liv, you know as well as I do that that was prompting, and therefore is not solid evidence that I could use, whatsoever.”

“Oh come on, Barba,” she says, her tone exasperated. “You know that you can build this case if you want to.”

“You’re right,” he quips with maddening calm, slipping his arms through his coat. “But I don’t want to.”

She blocks his way, stepping up to him, her eyes fiery. “Really, Barba? You’re just going to leave it?”

He tilts his head, adopting a mock thoughtful look. “Why, yes, Liv, I am just going to leave it, because frankly, you don’t have anything for me, and you know it.”

She steps aside, glaring at him. “You know, sometimes I could just strangle you.”

“Do that, and it’ll be non-circumstantial evidence of attempted murder,” he smirks. “Good night, Liv.”

He can feel her throwing daggers as his back as he sweeps out of his office.

* * *

Barba walks into the restaurant and sees Lucia sitting at the table, lips pursed as she glances at the menu. “Sorry I’m late, Mamì.” He gives his mother a peck on the cheek and sits down across from her. “I had some work to catch up at the office, and a last minute meeting.”

“You work too hard, Rafi,” Lucia chides. “I hope you remembered to eat your lunch.”

“I did,” he affirms. “I had lunch with Liv.”

“Liv?” Lucia looks up. “Lieutenant Benson?”

“Yes, her. And I should also tell you that it’s all her fault that I’m late. She brings me a case that has absolutely no bearing on…”

She looks at her son with a keen eye as he rambles on, complaining about Lieutenant Benson, a small smile forming on her lips.

“I swear to God, Mamì, she drives me loco.”

Her smile grows wider, as she sips at her sparkling water. Barba looks at his mother suspiciously. “Mamì, why are you smiling?”

She pats his hand lightly. “You like Lieutenant Benson.”

Barba chokes on his scotch. “Excuse me?”

“She drives you loco, because you are loco about her, yes?”

“ _No_.”

“Usually when two people fight like you and Lieutenant Benson do, it means they like each other, yes? And usually they end up getting married. Look at your primo Ana and her husband David.”

He gaped at his mother. The idea of being together with Liv, living with her, waking up next to her, going to work with her, making breakfast for her, being _married,_ Liv in a cream silk dress and a bouquet of lilies in her hand, smiling at him…

He shakes his head a little to clear it; what the hell are these images that he’s conjuring in his head? For just that moment, they seemed so real. And so possible.

He grabs his scotch, and takes a gulp.

“Now _you’re_ being loco, Mamì.”

Lucia gives a knowing smile, but she says nothing more.

* * *

_ii. because you want to be squabbling with her at eighty-five_

They’re working late again, papers strewn all over her desk and a couple of ring files stacked on the chair. Barba is sitting on her chair, with his legs up on the desk, going through all the statements of the witnesses for the prosecution, whilst she’s curled up on her couch, frowning at the report she’s holding, her legs tucked underneath her.

He finishes the last statement, and makes a few quick notations, before snapping the file shut. He checks his watch – it’s nearly eight and they haven’t had dinner. He stands up, stretching a little. “Liv, you want to go for dinner?” He asks.

She looks at him, slipping off her glasses and grabbing her phone, checking the time. “Oh wow, it’s late. I’ll take a rain check on that dinner, Barba, I have to go. We’ll continue tomorrow morning? At your office?”

“Yeah, whichever. Let me know.”

He watches her as she twists her hair into a knot and tosses her phone into her bag. “Plans with Tucker?” He asks, unable to keep the slightly disdainful tone out of his voice, for whatever reason.

Liv shoots him a glance as she gathers her papers into a neat pile. “No, actually. I have to go home to Noah, Lucy’s not able to stay late tonight.”

“Oh.” He shrugs, feeling a bit guilty for his mocking tone, but not guilty enough to say anything else.

A short silence settles between them as they both busy themselves with packing up to go home. Barba takes out his phone and taps a message to his mother, for he doesn’t feel like eating alone tonight.

“I ended things with Ed,” Liv says suddenly, as she is hoisting her bag on her shoulder.

For some inexplicably reason, he feels relief washing over him when he hears that, but he affects indifference, barely looking up from his phone. “Hmmm? I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?”

His heart skips a beat, and he is careful to keep his expression neutral as he looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Barba. You hate Ed. I don’t think you’re really _sorry_.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” he smirks.

She rolls her eyes, and walks past him, and on a whim, he reaches out and puts his hand on her upper arm.

“Are you…okay, Liv?”

“Yeah, look,” she shrugs. “It’s all good. I have Noah. Anyway, I’m no stranger to failed relationships and going at it alone.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that.”

She exhales, but says nothing, and he tries to lighten her mood. “Well, at least you’ll have me squabbling with you at eighty-five.”

Liv snorts. “Oh sure, you’re going to marry me so that you can the privilege of fighting with me at eighty-five?”

He’s about to give her a snappy comeback when an image of him and Liv, old and grey, holding hands and squabbling, unbiddenly enters his head. The image seems so real, that future seems so plausible. They already know each other so well; he’s her best friend and she’s his, and it’s all so possible.

She looks at him warily when the expected sarcastic reply does not materialise. “Barba. I was joking.”

“I know that,” he retorts, and then shockingly, he couldn’t come up with anything else. He looks at her, and she looks back at him, and _something_ just seems to pass between them, before she coughs, and averts her eyes.

“Look, if you don’t mind a pasta bake or something simple, you’re welcome to have dinner at my place, and we can continue working after I put Noah to bed. If you want.”

Barba looks down at his phone, and erases the message he’s about to send to Lucia. “Okay, sure,” he says, his tone nonchalant, as he follows her out of the office.

It’s almost like they’re going home together, as a married couple, after work, to cook dinner, to hang out, to just be together.

Barba halts his thoughts. It’s dinner at her place, it’s not something he’s never done before, so he doesn’t quite understand why he’s literally planning a wedding in his head.

He’s being ridiculous because he’s hungry, he decides. And that’s that.

* * *

_iii. because for the first time in your life, you think about being a father_

“Right on time,” she says, as she opens the door. “I’m just going to put some sun screen on Noah, and then we can go.”

He steps into her apartment, frowning slightly. “I don’t know how I got talked into doing this,” he mutters.

“Out of the kindness of your heart,” she returns cheerfully. “Or maybe to prove you actually _have_ a heart?”

“Excuse me for forgetting to laugh at your witty joke,” he drawls, before motioning to the stack Tupperware boxes near the hall table. “Are those the boxes I’m supposed to help carry?”

“Yes, and also a couple of ice coolers.”

“Mmm…manual labour, just what I went to Harvard to prepare for.”

“Don’t be an ass, Barba,” she says, bumping him with her hip.

“Gratitude, Liv.”

“I am grateful,” she says, shooting him a brilliant smile, and for some reason, his world stops spinning on its axis for a few, brief seconds.

* * *

Barba winces as three pre-schoolers tear past him, screaming on top of their lungs. He looks down gratefully at Noah sitting beside him, quietly sharing Cheerios with a little girl called Alyssa. He has been tasked with looking after the two toddlers. Liv and Alyssa’s mother are some distance away, talking to a teacher, presumably about their children’s progress in preschool.

“Cheerio, Baba?” Noah asks innocently, holding out a piece of cereal.

“Thanks, amigo,” he ruffles Noah’s hair briefly before reaching for the Cheerio, but Noah shook his head and lifted it up to his lips. A little reluctantly, Barba allows Noah to put the cereal into his mouth. His interaction with Noah has improved greatly and is a lot easier than what it was, but he’s still a little bit awkward around the little boy.

Liv and Alyssa’s mother walk back towards them, and Alyssa jumps up from the bench and runs to her mother. The mother smiles at the sight of Noah feeding Barba Cheerios.

“Your husband has such a natural way with Noah, Olivia,” she remarks gaily.

At that, Liv’s eyes widens and Barba immediately starts choking on the cereal. As he recovers, he and Liv starts talking on top of each other. “No, no, he’s not, we’re not, he’s…we’re…she’s…we’re just friends.”

The other woman looks embarrassed, and a bit uncertain. “I’m sorry for assuming, but you…well, you look like a family,” she finishes.

Liv musters up a magnanimous smile. “It’s an honest mistake.”

With another smile, Alyssa and her mother disappear into the throng of toddlers and parents in the sand pit, while Barba and Liv looks at each other uncomfortably in silence, not quite knowing what to say. He wants to make a snarky comment, but it isn’t coming out.

Noah breaks the silence by hopping off the bench and grabbing his mother’s hand. “Mummy, I want the see-saw.”

“Of course, baby,” she responds, holding his hand. With his other hand, he reaches out, and takes Barba hand, tightening his small fingers on three of Barba’s.

“Baba, you come with us, too,” he says decisively.

As they walk towards the see-saws, the thought that they look like a family – a family of three – is never far from his mind. Noah swings their arms, and gives Barba a bright smile. He smiles back, and for that one, brief, moment, he wants it.

Never in his forty-six years of life has he once thought of wanting to be a father, heck, even marriage is low on his priority list, but looking at the trusting way that Noah is holding onto his fingers, he thinks maybe this fatherhood-husband-family thing is worth a go.

But only for Noah.

And only for Liv.

* * *

_iv. because you look at her and you think you never want to leave her_

Barba didn’t think so much when he decided to kiss Liv, and he wasn’t thinking a lot when she kissed back with equal ferocity, and he _absolutely_ wasn’t thinking when they fell into bed together, and allowed months and months of tension, pent-up feelings, emotions and frustrations to spill over.

But it’s now the morning after, and he’s definitely thinking. She’s still sleeping, her face inches from his, her breathing light and even, her leg between his and her arm draped around his waist. Locks of brown hair falls on her face, and he smooths them back, fingers grazing her cheek gently. She stirs, but her eyes remain close.

She’s so beautiful, he thinks, and it isn’t just her physical attributes. It’s everything about her, and he wonders why it took him so long to realise it.

Liv yawns, and opens her eyes, finding his green eyes with her brown ones, and then she smiles. Her arm tightens around his waist, and she leans forward and touches his lips with hers. The brief kiss is sweet and natural, and it feels like they’ve been doing this all their lives.

He kisses her again, longer this time, and just as he’s about to pull her closer to him, they hear noises, and instantly, he knows that Noah is awake. She sits up, and grabs her bathrobe, but before she leaves the room to attend to Noah, she kisses him again.

He watches her go, and then he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, searching for his pants in the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He finds them, and pulls it on, along with his wrinkled shirt.

Wandering into her kitchen, he finds the coffee beans, and switches on the coffee machine. He rummages through the fridge and finds a bottle of organic apple juice, and some milk. He locates Noah’s favourite Cheerios on a shelf, and pours some into a Toy Story bowl. He grabs some eggs, and cracks them into a bowl.

When Liv enters the kitchen with Noah attached to her hip, he’s carefully placing two plates of scrambled eggs, accompanied by tomatoes and mushrooms, on the kitchen counter, along with two cups of hot coffee.

“You made breakfast!” She says, setting Noah down on his chair, as the toddler attacks his cereal with glee.

“I made breakfast,” he affirms.

She sits down across from him, and takes a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Mmmm…these are delicious,” she says, setting down the fork and picking up her coffee. Reaching across the counter, she grabs his hand, and squeezes it. “Thank you, Raf.”

As Liv resumes eating her breakfast, she keeps her hand on top of his, not letting go.

And Barba thinks that he could get used to this. He could get used to waking up beside her, kissing her, making breakfast for her and Noah, holding her hand, building a life together.

He wants it to be _them_.

He thinks he really wants to marry her.

* * *

_v. because you love her, you really love her_

There’s no frills, because neither of them wants frills. They’re not young anymore, Liv says, there’s no need for any sort of spectacle. And he agrees, because all he wants, and all he needs, is just for them to be together, to be a family. It’s just formality to make it official.a

Barba puts on a new suit, and Liv buys a new dress. They walk into City Hall on a Tuesday morning, flanked by Lucia, who’s carrying Noah – who is also wearing a new suit  -and the rest of the SVU squad.

They sign the papers, and he slips the diamond-adorned platinum band on her finger, and she does the same with his plain platinum wedding band. Lucia cries when he kisses her, and Amanda rubs a speck of dust from her eye (and as does Fin, although he’d never admit it), and Carisi whoops and engulfs them in bear hugs.

They walk out of City Hall together, holding hands, and he looks down to see the glint of their wedding rings. He smiles at her, and she leans forward and kisses him hard, their second kiss as husband and wife.

He really wants to marry her, so he finally does.


End file.
